How to Embrace Inner Peace?

We live in a world that constantly tells us abundance is something we have to chase, catch, and frantically hoard. We are trained to measure our worth by the speed of our schedules, the size of our bank accounts, or the pristine appearance of our homes.

If you’ve got a "noisy brain" like mine—one that races like a squirrel with human tendencies—the constant cultural hum of "more, faster, better" can quickly run you straight into the ground.

Lately, I’ve been sitting with a completely different definition of what it means to be full. I

recently opened my journal to a fresh 14-day study on abundance, facing a blank white page and a line drawing of blooming blue hydrangeas. If I'm being entirely transparent, there are days when the internal noise whispers that I am failing. I get so deeply caught up in the whirlwinds of work, moving logistics, and endless chores that I then fixate on whether I’m giving enough of myself to the people who matter most. I worry that I’m not enough as a wife, or that I’m wrapped too tightly in my own life, I don't give all of myself to others.

But over the past week, as I picked up my coloring pencils and leaned into a quiet rhythm, a beautiful shift happened. I realized that abundance isn't a prize we claim when life finally settles down. It is a grounding presence available to us right now, even when the world feels completely upside down.

Abundance isn’t the absolute absence of a storm; it is the quiet, immovable contentment that keeps you anchored while the storm is raging.

The Nature of a Good Parent

When we look at the concept of divine or spiritual blessing, it's easy to fall into the trap of

thinking we have to perform perfectly to receive it. But as I reflected on the scripture from 2 Corinthians—reminding us that grace is provided moment by moment—I started thinking about parenthood.

Think about how we watch our own children. We offer them guidance, direction, a steady hand, boundaries, and constant praise. We don’t do these things out of rigid, begrudging obligation; we do them out of pure, unadulterated love. We genuinely delight in blessing them when they are growing and faithful. When we shift our perspective to see that the universe isn't waiting for us to slip up, but is actively looking for reasons to love and bless us, the heavy armor of performance begins to drop away.

Contentment While the Storm Rages

It’s easy to talk about peace when you’re sitting on a quiet porch sipping tea. It is a completely different thing to find it when your life is being packed into cardboard boxes, and your family is walking through a crisis. This season has been beautifully hectic but undeniably scary. We’ve been in the middle of buying a new home, and in the middle of all the chaos of the house, I was sitting in a hospital ICU watching my mother struggle after brain surgery to remove a tumor the size of an apple.

By all human logic, that is a recipe for paralyzing anxiety. Yet, sitting in that space, I was acutely aware of an abundant, unexplainable peace. I knew I couldn’t control the surgical tools or stop the storms of life from blowing, but I felt a deep contentment knowing we were being handed exactly enough strength for the daily bread of just today. Seeing my mom today—communicating, healing, and smiling—is living proof that a grander plan is at work, even when we can only see a single step ahead.

Grounded Reflection: Take a look at your own week. Where has life felt chaotic or scary, and where can you spot a small, hidden pocket of peace that you didn't have to manufacture yourself?

Facing the Ultimate Barrier: Fear

If abundance and peace are always flowing around us, what actually keeps us from stepping into them? When I asked myself this hard question in my journal, the answer hit me instantly and without apology: FEAR.

To receive the gifts meant for us, we are often asked to step out in obedience or try something brand new. But fear has a powerful way of paralyzing our feet. It tells us we’re unqualified, that we’re going to look foolish, or that staying safe is better than growing. I’ve found that even the simple act of sitting down to color, letting my hands stay busy with the shape of a flower petal, acts as an emergency brake for my nervous system. It quiets the noise just enough to realize that courage doesn't mean the absence of anxiety—it means taking the step even when your knees are shaking.

If you are looking for a guide to put you in a spiritual mindset, check out my 52-week Coloring Meditation Journal, Rooted and Blooming.